Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Rainy Day 6: Grape guest blog 2, Feldenstein

Where is the Clerk of The Clerk Manifesto? Do you think you
know? What hints has he left of his whereabouts? What does he do when he is on vacation? Why doesn’t
he just tell us?

I would like to suggest three possibilities. It is up to
him, of course, to divulge his location—or if he remains in the library after
all, letting his fingers and mind rest a bit from the demands and stardom of
blogging.

Alas, I think not. I believe Feldenstein Calypso is somewhere.

And now, I will, like all great logical thinkers, drink
seven glasses of chocolate milk and sit still until memories of Feldenstein
Calypso rise, memories that might give us some clues as to his
whereabouts.

Memory #1

I have known Feldenstein Calypso since junior high—a bit
peripherally then, but we were aware of shared thoughts only available that
year, 1976, the Bicentennial, when we set our balloons free, notes tied to
their tails.

Our friendship blossomed in high school, when we opened a
jazz club deep in the Sierra Nevada Mountains of California. That year, he let
his hair grown out, but mine remained short. We collected turtle cars and lived
on wheatgrass mangoes. And so…

THEORY “A”

Feldenstein Calypso is tented against a lightening storm at
Thousand Islands Lake in the Sierra Nevadas.A lovely stream flows by.Paul
Bley is there, playing piano.

Memory #2

Another story you might want to tell your children:
Feldenstein Calypso is an excellent bowler, and his minigolf skills are
legendary (Wiki it!).For years, after
serving as vice president of Chevron, he toured the minigolf circuit,
dominating the competition, but always, of his own free will, losing on the
final hole. “It teaches me something,” is all he said in his many postgame
interviews. With his second place winnings, he got on, buying a Winnebago and a
herd of sheep he called his Watchdog Crew.

THEORY “B”

Feldenstein Calypso sits cross legged on a bench at hole six
of the Sherman Oaks Castle Park miniature golf course. He writes on a scorecard
with a vintage minigolf pencil.Although
a club rests by his side, he does not play, and the families and couples take
no real notice of him. He is like a light post, a part of the place, as natural
as a beach toy on the sand.

Memory #3

As noted on an earlier post, when Feldenstein Calypso and
Grape Areeww were 16 years-old, Grape Areeww drove them to the top of Stunt
Canyon Road, a saddle atop the San Fernando Valley. From there they saw the
Topanga Mall and, in the other direction, the wide Pacific. After various UFO
sightings, the boys decided it was time to drive down the winding road to have
dinner with their new rabbi, but not before picking up a hitchhiker, Gabriela
Quilavonovitch, who asked if she could drive.

She took the wheel and sang us lovely songs about mirrors
and doves that put the boys to sleep despite the screeching turns and
increasing speeds. Three hours later they woke.The car was on its side, resting against the hill.In the road, a GIANT rock shaped like an
elephant.

“We’ll tell them about Gabriela Quilavonovitch and show them
the rock. They’ll have to buy us both a new car!”

“But Grape Areeww…”

“What?”

“The rock’s gone! And so is Gabriela Quilavonovitch!”

***

Two weeks ago, a woman stood in the checkout line at
Feldenstein Calypso’s library, a copy of Jack
the Bear in her hand.Feldenstein
Calypso happened to be carting some books by.

“I love that book!” he said to her.

“I know,” she said, and stepped forward to the desk.

“What a strange thing to say,” thought Feldenstein Calypso.

He went on with his day, busily encouraging his colleagues
to invest in a sushi bar for the break room, tying cherry stems in knots,
fantasizing about a macchiato, when, all of a sudden, he stopped in his tracks.

“That woman, the one with the Jack the Bear book, that was Gabriela Quilavonovitch! I would
recognize those shoes anywhere!”

THEORY THREE

In a storage unit made of cinder blocks, Feldenstein Calypso
sits before his laptop, reviewing the security camera tapes of Gabriela
Quilavonovitch, scouring each frame for clues. Feldenstein Calypso has not
eaten for days.He falls asleep
fitfully, drinking from the melting ice atop the unit. He stops the tape only
long enough to read the annotated edition of Jack the Bear, searching for some clues, some numerology, something
to help!

Now, Dear Readers, it’s your turn. In the comments section,
please let me know which of the three theories you believe is most likely.You can also, of course, posit your own
theories. When Feldenstein Calypso returns, it will be up to him what he
divulges!

If you were wondering, yes, you should comment. Not only does it remind me that I must write in intelligible English because someone is actually reading what I write, but it is also a pleasure for me since I am interested in anything you have to say.

I respond to pretty much every comment. It's like a free personalized blog post!

One last detail: If you are commenting on a post more than two weeks old I have to go in and approve it. It's sort of a spam protection device. Also, rarely, a comment will go to spam on its own. Give either of those a day or two and your comment will show up on the blog.

Not so entertaining sort of legal exclaimer that seems wise to post if you think about it

I in no way speak on behalf of or in any way for the Library I work for, though if they would like me to I am sure we can come to an agreement.

My blog is not written or worked on during paid time and if it ever appears to be that is only for narrative umph and to reflect on my thought processes and experience as things happened.

Things here are fictionalized and obscured sometimes, and though I stand behind my portrayl of the spirit and feel of things it would be wrong to ascribe too much to a specific Library, event, or person.